Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“You bet your ass.”
At the sight of his broad, captivating smile—or maybe just his sexy use of the word “ass”—all of my worry and sadness vanishes.
He told me to keep an open mind about happiness.
I hope he’s doing the same.
Danny snaps his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered I’m off tomorrow night. Want to hit up a couple of bars? Throw in your figurative fishing line? See what’s out there? It’ll be fun!”
I don’t know if I have it in me to play out this whole wingman thing Danny is proposing.
I don’t know if I can trust my own emotions.
Is any part of me really in it to find a guy, or do I just want to spend a night out on the town with Danny, using this whole dating thing as an excuse? Can’t he tell I’m crazy about him? Or is he really that oblivious to his own magnetism?
7. Wingman
Okay, maybe I already regret agreeing to this.
“Um … are you sure you don’t have anything dressier than that?” he asks politely.
I gaze down at my button-up shirt and jeans. I frown at Danny. “What’s wrong with this? It’s nice.”
“Sure, if you’re going to church. Do you have anything more … fitted?” He sucks his tongue in thought, peering up and down my body as he crosses his arms. “Actually, y’know what? A true wingman looks out for his buddy in every way. Let’s go take a look at your closet together.”
“Wait. What?”
“I swear it won’t be long.” He slaps me on the back and ushers me into my own apartment building.
I don’t know why I agreed to meeting him outside my place. Probably because I’m insane, or had some kind of fantasy of this exact thing happening: him coming up to my apartment, then us ditching the idea of going out tonight and deciding to hang out with each other instead.
Wait. Could that still happen? Is it too late?
What the fuck am I thinking?
“Sorry about the place,” I say when we arrive. I open the door and let him in. “I didn’t expect to, uh, have any company.”
“You didn’t expect to have company? Were you planning to take your date back to their place? I guess you could, but … sometimes, you just don’t know where the night will take you. Better to be ready. Here, I’ll help you clean up a few things. You don’t mind, do you?”
With that—and before I can answer—he proceeds to start fixing up anything he can find: a lopsided throw blanket on the back of my couch, an out of place picture frame, extra crap on my coffee table, a crooked lampshade … It’s amazing how many things he finds.
And as he darts around, I can’t peel my eyes off of him.
Danny looks delicious tonight. He’s wearing a stylish blue dress shirt that seems stitched to fit his every curve, and jeans that make his ass look like a fucking snack. Not to mention his bright white shoes, which are commanding and totally fit him. Plus, I guess he’s got contacts in for our night out, because he isn’t wearing glasses, and that does everything to feature his gorgeous eyes.
And now he’s playing housekeeper to my little box of an apartment.
Is this how our life together could be like? Is this a foreshadowing of our future? Is this—
Ugh, this is so wrong.
He stops suddenly. “Let me know if I’m being too …” He bites his lip as he worries over the word. “I don’t know. Joey says I can get kind of neurotic. Or controlling. Or something. Hey, do you have a moody lamp you can leave on? A mood-setter?”
“A mood-setter …?”
“Yeah. You always need to leave at least one lamp on to set the mood. Just in case you bring him back here. It’s never good to wander into a dark apartment. So? Do you have one?”
I shrug. “I guess the one by the couch.”
He glances at it, flicks it on, then observes it for a moment, drumming his fingers along his chin. His eyes lift up, noticing my plant I keep on the windowsill. “Oh, that looks nice. Definitely a good omen to a potential boyfriend. Shows that you care for something other than yourself.” He smiles at me. “That’s a good subconscious first impression to send of your lifestyle, know what I mean?”
I chuckle. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.” He walks up to it and tenderly touches some of the leaves, then turns back to me and smiles. “Alright, I think we’re set. How about you show me your wardrobe?”
I nod, then lead the way.
This part may take a while.
Half an hour later: “Hmm …” He thumbs through the limited selection in my closet. “No, not this. No, not this either, sends the wrong message. Hmm, and this one is too casual. Oh, hey, this is kind of nice … but the material is a bit heavy.” He glances back at me. “Sorry, I’m being a handful. But as your only gay friend, I feel like I’ve got an obligation to be honest.”